POV: Ryan
CRACK!
The wooden training dummy exploded into splinters as my hand connected with its center. Pieces of wood flew everywhere, but I didn't care. I was still angry, and I needed to hit something else.
"Feel better now?" Logan's voice came from behind me.
I spun around, breathing hard. My brother stood at the end of the training yard with his arms crossed, watching me destroy our practice equipment.
"No," I growled, kicking at the broken pieces. "I don't feel better."
"Want to talk about what's really bothering you?"
What was bothering me? Let me count the ways. First, Dad was pushing Ethan to pick a mate in three days. Second, I had to waste my afternoon at some stupid tea party instead of training the new fighters. Third, everyone expected us to act like perfect little kings when all I wanted to do was fight.
"I hate this," I said, hitting another dummy so hard it fell over. "All these parties and events and formal dinners. It's not who I am."
Logan nodded understanding. "But you can't skip the afternoon party. Mom directly asked for all three of us to be there."
"Why? So we can stand around making small talk with people who only care about us because we're the Alpha's sons?" I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from my face. "It's fake, Logan. All of it."
The truth was, I felt stuck. Ethan got to be the boss, Logan got to be the peacemaker, and I was just... the fighter. The one who solved things with his fists. At fancy pack parties, there was nothing for me to fight, nothing to protect anyone from. I just stood there feeling useless.
"Come on," Logan said softly. "It's only for a couple hours. Then you can come back and break more training tools."
I sighed and followed him toward the main house. Through the windows, I could already see pack members gathering for Mom's weekly social hour. Women in pretty dresses laughed and chatted while men talked pack business. It all looked so polite and boring.
"Remember," Logan warned as we reached the door, "smile and be nice. No matter what."
"Yeah, yeah. I know the rules."
We walked into the crowded room, and instantly several people came over to greet us. I plastered on my fake smile and shook hands with pack elders, nodded nicely at their boring stories, and tried not to look as miserable as I felt.
"Ryan!" Mom appeared beside me with a bright smile. "There you are, sweetheart. Come meet Mrs. Henderson's daughter. She just moved here from the Northern Pack."
Before I could escape, she dragged me over to a group of young women. They all looked at me with wide, excited eyes, like I was some kind of prize they wanted to win.
"This is Ryan," Mom stated proudly. "He's our pack's head warrior trainer."
The girls giggled and started asking me questions about fighting and training. I answered as nicely as I could, but my attention kept wandering to the windows. Outside, I could see the training yard where I belonged.
"How many rogues have you fought?" one girl asked excitedly.
"Do you really train every day?" asked another.
"Have you ever been hurt in battle?"
Their questions made me uncomfortable. They weren't interested in me as a person - they just wanted to hear exciting stories about fighting. Like I was some kind of show for them.
"Excuse me," I said, backing away from the group. "I need some air."
I headed toward the beverage table, hoping to hide behind a plant pot or something. That's when I saw her.
The dark-haired girl from yesterday's party was serving tea and small cakes to the guests. She moved quietly between the tables, refilling cups and clearing away empty plates. Maya - that was her name.
I watched as she approached a group of women sitting near the fireplace. She balanced a big tray carefully, making sure not to bump into anyone's chair.
But just as she reached their table, one of the women moved backward without looking. Her elbow hit Maya's arm, sending the full tray flying.
CRASH!
Tea cups and saucers broke on the floor. Hot tea spilled everywhere. Maya stumbled and fell to her knees, her hands resting in the broken glass.
For a moment, the whole room went quiet.
Then the laughter started.
"Look at the clumsy omega," someone whispered loudly.
"Can't even carry a simple tray," another person added.
"Someone should teach these kitchen workers how to do their jobs properly."
My hands clenched into fists. Maya hadn't done anything wrong. The woman who knocked into her wasn't even paying attention, but somehow it was Maya's fault?
Maya kept her head down as she started picking up the broken pieces. I could see blood on her fingers where the glass had cut her, but she didn't stop cleaning.
"Maya!" A sharp voice called from across the room. Beta Karen, the kitchen supervisor, pushed through the crowd with an angry look. "What have you done now?"
"I'm sorry," Maya whispered, still on her knees. "I'll clean it up."
"You certainly will. And you'll pay for those dishes too." Karen's voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. "Honestly, I don't know why we keep you around."
More laughs rippled through the crowd. Some people shook their heads like Maya was a big disappointment. Others whispered to each other behind their hands.
Something hot and fierce rose up in my chest. These people were being rude to someone who couldn't fight back. Maya was just trying to do her job, and they were treating her like garbage.
I started walking toward her before I even knew what I was doing.
"Ryan?" Logan's worried voice followed me, but I ignored him.
I knelt down beside Maya and started helping her pick up the broken pieces. She looked up at me with wide, shocked eyes.
"You don't have to do this," she whispered.
"Yes, I do," I said strongly.
The room had gone completely silent now. Everyone stared at us - the Alpha's son helping an omega clean up a mess. I could feel their uncertainty and disapproval, but I didn't care.
"Here, let me see your hands," I said gently.
Maya paused, then showed me her cut fingers. The cuts weren't deep, but they were bleeding.
"Someone get the first aid kit," I called out.
Nobody moved. They all just kept staring.
"Now," I said in my Alpha order voice.
That got them going. Someone rushed to find emergency supplies while I helped Maya to her feet.
"Thank you," she said quietly, her cheeks red with embarrassment.
"Don't thank me yet," I answered. "This isn't over."
I turned to face the crowd, my anger rising like a storm. These people needed to learn some manners.
But before I could say anything, Maya gasped beside me. She grabbed her wrist and stumbled backward, her face twisted in pain.
"What's wrong?" I reached for her.
That's when I saw it - a bright silver light glowing through her sleeve. She pushed the fabric up, showing a mark on her skin that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The same warm, electric feeling from last night crashed through my body like lightning. My chest burned, my heart raced, and every nerve in my body screamed that something impossible was happening.
Around the room, people started pointing and talking in shock.
"Is that...?" someone gasped.
"A mate mark," another voice confirmed.
Maya looked at me with scared eyes, and I felt my whole world turn upside down.
The quiet omega girl I'd just defended wasn't just anyone.
She was someone's mate.
And the fire burning in my chest told me exactly whose mate she was.